


Emptiness

by magequisition



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Drinking, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Pining, mentioned female warden/leliana, percieved unrequited love, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-09 01:07:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4328004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magequisition/pseuds/magequisition
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't supposed to be like this. He wasn't supposed to feel this way. Not for her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Emptiness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daringlybelieving](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daringlybelieving/gifts).



                It wasn’t supposed to be like this. None of it was right. Not just the Hero’s rejection – that had stung, sure, but it was hardly her fault if she preferred women and Leliana was certainly a lovely choice, even if she did terrify him slightly.

                No, it wasn’t the Hero of Ferelden’s rejection that had Alistair lying awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to get more than the minimal required rest to function. It was the other, the cloud that hung around him like smoke he couldn’t clear. It was the ritual, the unspeakable deed he’d performed with Morrigan the night before the battle with the archdemon in order to spare the Hero and, selfishly, himself. He hadn’t been in the mood to die, and he certainly wasn’t in favour of her sacrificing himself, so with great reluctance, he’d agreed to the ritual.

                _You will not hate this quite so much as you believe,_ she’d purred before they began, and he hadn’t wanted to believe her. She was insufferable, hounding him at every turn when all he’d been trying to do was save the country. She’d teased him mercilessly when he’d stammered out his feelings towards the Hero, only to be gently rebuffed with an apologetic smile. He’d been glad, he thought, when she disappeared after the battle with the archdemon as promised, insistent that she not be followed.

                As the weeks passed, however, he found himself empty. He’d been made King, Anora locked away, and he was doing his duty as best as he could, with the Hero advising him as Warden-Commander, but something was missing. Which was how he found himself in the tavern, plain clothes and a hood on to disguise himself, a mug of ale between his hands.  He jumped when someone dropped into the seat across from him.

                “All right, _your majesty,”_ she said, dragging the words out. “Out with it. You’re a mess. What’s going on?”

                Alistair groaned. “Not now, Warden-Commander. Please.” His voice came out more desperate than he’d hoped.

                “It’s her, isn’t it?” she asked, her voice softening. “You didn’t think it would happen, but you miss her.”

                “Maker, would you leave it?” he groaned. “Yes, I fathered a child…of sorts, I don’t even know…with Morrigan. The woman is still an insufferable pain in my arse, and incredibly mean. It’s better that she’s gone.”

                “Is that why you’ve been in here every night for the past month and a half?” the Hero asked, reaching out to rest her hand on Alistair’s arm. “Alistair, you can trust me. I know – I mean, things didn’t go as you wanted with us, but you’re still one of my closest friends. I hope you feel the same.”

                A loud sigh, and Alistair’s head dropped onto his arm on the table. “Of course I do,” he said, his voice muffled. “But I don’t want to think about it, because even if it is true, for some maker-unknown reason, it’s no use and never would have been. She couldn’t care for me. I doubt she’s capable of love.”

                The Hero laughed. “The two of you are impossible. Both staring at each other when the other wasn’t looking, then lamenting about how they’d _never want me_ and snarking at the top of your lungs to hide it. One of these days I’ll find that witch, and I swear I’m locking you two in a room until you have it out.”

                Alistair’s head shot up and his face paled. “Maker, no. You can’t. Even if you do find her – which you won’t, if she doesn’t want to be found, we both know that – you can’t ever tell her. She doesn’t want me involved with the child, with her. She made that very clear.”

                “Alistair, I – “ he put up a hand to cut her off.

                “No. Please. If you’re my friend, just don’t.”

                “What can I do? I don’t like seeing you like this, and if you keep up this not sleeping nonsense, Ferelden’s not going to have a competent King for much longer.”

                “Just sit with me,” Alistair sighed. “Sit with me, and drink, and for the love of everything, don’t bring her up. It’s a passing fancy because she bore my child, I’m certain of it. It’s duty speaking, not my heart.”

                She shook her head. “You don’t do _passing,_ Alistair, and duty wouldn’t put this look on your face.” She raised a hand. “But not another word from me.” She looked over her shoulder. “Another round over here, please!” she called to the bartender, who nodded in understanding.


End file.
